


Your Enemies Closer

by piginapoketuesday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Brief mentions of Destiel, Consensual, Dom!Cas, Dom!Castiel, Hate Sex, M/M, Masochism, Porn Without Plot, Sub!Castiel, dom!metatron, metatron is cruel, sub!cas, sub!metatron, violent but not graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel decides to find Metatron and ask to fuck him into oblivion. Hate sex ensues. Metatron is cruel and it turns Cas on. Cas is aggressive and it turns Metatron on. Everyone is a masochist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Well, if it isn't my favorite renegade angel. Come to torture me? This will be an education, I'm certain."

"No, you bastard," Cas sneered. He snapped his fingers, and immediately he was inside Metatron's cell. "I came to have sex with you."

Metatron blinked for a moment. Then he burst into a fit of violent laughter.

"I am serious."

"That's—" the scribe gasped between giggles, "That's the dumbest thing—I've heard in a millennium!"

Castiel was tiring of this insult. He grabbed Metatron's shoulders and forced him up against the stone wall. They locked furious eyes for a moment, before Castiel tipped his head and bit at his enemy's tender ear lobe. "I came here to fuck you until you beg for mercy."

Metatron almost purred. His cock stirred, delighted, in his pants. He gripped Castiel's chin. "Oh, you poor little boy. I slit your throat, ripped out your Grace, and now you want my intimacy?"

"No," Castiel spat, the fingers on his jaw making it difficult to speak, "I want to make you weep with need."

"I love a good bout of angry sex," he said, grinning like a cat who has just caught his mouse. Even so, he released Castiel.

"I imagine you love any sort of sex, as it must be difficult to come by for you."

"Ooooh, you like to burn 'em, aye, Cas? Well," he twisted his hand in Castiel's hair and forced his head back. Then he carefully licked at the dimple of skin below the angel's Adam's apple. "Does it pain you to feel my tongue where I defiled you all those months ago?"

Castiel swallowed. "You miserable—" As much as he loathed the gesture, he couldn't deny how arousal flared in his groin at the stroke of the scribe's tongue.

"Ah, my sweet, pliant Castiel. Does this make you weak?" He laved at the taut throat, tasting and sucking.

Castiel moaned and angrily forced himself backward, away from his partner. "I will have you. Not the other way around."

"Fight me for dominance, then, brother. I will not be your submissive willingly." He moved toward Castiel and caught his mouth in a violent kiss. Cas accepted it, sucking at the invading tongue, while his hands ripped through Metatron's shirt.

"Oooh, look at you! Taking initiative. Been getting your cock wet in that Winchester's mouth, have you?"

"Dean and I have not been intimate," Cas sneered, gripping the archangel's curls to give him leverage in the kiss.

"No? Pity. You should have seen your expression when I told you he was dead. Like a broken lover! I wanted to fuck that sniveling anguish right off your face."

Castiel took Metatron by the shoulders and threw him down onto the floor of the cell. Immediately, he was on top of the older man. He withdrew his angel blade and pressed it against the other's throat. "You will not speak of Dean Winchester."

Metatron's eyes and smile grew menacing. "Sammy, then. You should have seen the light fade out of his eyes when I gutted that walking punch-line; when he had to hold his big brother’s insides together with just his hands—”

"Enough!" Castiel put pressure on the blade.

The scribe grinned. "I can feel your cock, hard and desperate, against mine."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably.

"You know, you can end this here. I remember this position quite well. I had you at my mercy, beneath my knife. I relished it. Relished healing your bloody flesh with my own hand. Why not say to Heaven with your virtues and slit my throat?"

Cas held his gaze but never moved to cut him.

“But you won’t. You’re too good for slaughter now, isn’t that right, my penitent little soldier?”

His hand trembled.

“By the way, how is it, exactly, living with two other beings spliced into your soul?”

“Do you want me to cut you? Why provoke me?”

Metatron smiled. “Maybe I like blood play.”

“Ugh!” Castiel stood immediately and sat on the bench on the far side of the cell.

The writer shrugged. “Hey, no one ever said I was vanilla.” He got to his feet and went to sit next to Castiel. “So why don’t you chain my wrists and have your way with me.”

Cas looked down at his feet and blushed.

“Ah. My angel craves my touch.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Castiel’s temple. His hand found the zipper of his partner’s trousers and pulled down.

He felt a jolt of desire between his thighs.

“I can’t wait to hear the sounds that pretty mouth of yours will make.” Slowly, he slipped his hand into Castiel’s pants. His fingers slid over the bulge in the younger angel’s boxers and squeezed along the length.

Turning his head, Castiel bit into Metatron’s lip. “You’ll be too busy making sounds of your own to hear me at all.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You’ve never had an angel’s hand around your cock, have you, Castiel?”

“Technically, April was a reaper.”

Metatron smirked. “Right. The one who carved you like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

“I suppose I have a type.” Castiel’s glare was cold.

A chill ran down Metatron’s spine, straight to his groin. “Pity. You’d think your lovers would be more gentle.”

“You are not my lover.”

“No?” He leaned forward, hand cupping Castiel through his boxers, and kissed his jaw. Cas lifted his chin without thinking, and Metatron let his lips trail over the stubble of his throat, down until only skin protected his jugular from the scribe’s tongue; until he felt his sensitive hollow suckled into a hot mouth.

Metatron withdrew. “See, you talk so tough, but I can feel how hard you are.”

“Your slacks aren’t exactly hiding anything, either.”

He smiled grotesquely. “Aching for you, my dear.” He squeezed just slightly on the prick in his hand.

Castiel growled. He would not be made to feel submissive tonight. He pushed Metatron backward on the bench and moved on top of him. His hand went to the scribe’s throat and pressed down viciously. “You look at me while I strip you.”

“Ooooh, powerful little thing, aren’t you?” he choked.

“Shut up!” Cas fisted Metatron’s shirt and ripped backward, tearing the fabric clean off the vessel’s body.

The older angel shifted his hips, his arousal becoming uncomfortable. “Careful, or I’ll cum before you get to taste.”

He gripped the edge of his partner’s pants and pulled hard, tearing both legs and revealing a bit of the underwear beneath. He ripped once more, and the scribe lay beneath him with nothing but a swath of cotton covering his member.

“At least remove your coat. It’s the gentleman thing to do, since I’m here all exposed.”

Castiel moved down and pressed his open mouth to the bulge between Metatron’s legs. “I will expose whatever I please,” he sneered against the fabric.  
Even so, he stood briefly and removed his clothing, until he, too, was clad in only boxer briefs.

Metatron admired the dark patch where Castiel’s dripping cockhead had rubbed against the cotton. “So wet for me.”

“For your mouth. Maybe this will silence you.” He removed his boxers and straddled the scribe’s face, lowering himself to the half-parted lips. “Suck.”

Metatron licked his lips before opening his mouth. He eagerly accepted the first gift he was given: the slippery tip and only that. He licked and sucked at the head, his tongue invading the slit as if it were a quivering pussy.

Cas moaned and lowered himself further, taking his time and forcing the angel to worship each new inch granted.

Metatron knew he was being teased, but it was Castiel in the precarious position here. He closed his mouth tightly around the swelling member and hummed deeply.

Castiel almost came right then. The vibration encompassed his entire cock and made him buck wildly into Metatron’s mouth.

The writer gagged, but in his head, he smiled at having won this round. Castiel pounded into him, unable to stop, panting and crying out. The sounds alone made Metatron willing to accept the assault on his throat.

When Castiel came, it was a shivering, quaking orgasm that left him breathless. Cum bubbled up at the scribe’s lips as he softened, shaking in the aftershocks.


End file.
